


Try Me

by zeldadestry



Category: Nikita (TV 2010)
Genre: M/M, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:51:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldadestry/pseuds/zeldadestry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He never knows when it’s going to strike him and he never knows what to do after it has.    </p><p>And from the first time Nikita introduces him to Owen, he knows he’s gonna be denying that hunger for a long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [electrumqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/electrumqueen/gifts).



Usually, Ryan wants women, but, sometimes, he’s never seen any denominator among them, he finds himself longing after a guy. And it frustrates him exactly because it’s so damn inexplicable. If he could say to himself, I like this feature or that type, it would make desire something he can anticipate, plan for, control, right? But he never knows when it’s going to strike him and he never knows what to do after it has. 

And from the first time Nikita introduces him to Owen, he knows he’s gonna be denying that hunger for a long time, probably for as long as they work together. It could almost be a good thing, distract him from how much he feels for her, but nothing so heated can keep from being a problem, eventually, because Owen doesn’t hide his interest, when their eyes meet, when they’re introduced, when they shake hands. And his smile isn’t friendly at all, it’s more like a dare, almost a warning, saying, ok, we both know what’s going on here, so what are you gonna do about it? 

  


Birkhoff’s place is big, yeah, but right now there’s a lot of people staying there. And when everyone around is stubborn, tough, and willing to die for a cause, that’s a lot of outsized personality that can make it feel crowded. 

“You watching that?”

It’s the BBC news and, honestly, he could take a break from the conspiracies he senses lurking underneath every single event reported. “Not really.”

Owen drops down next to Ryan on the couch and grabs the remote right out of his hand. “Fight night,” he says, pumping a fist, and switches the channel over to a battle between two men in a cage.

“Enjoy.” Ryan gets up and leaves.

The next time they meet each other in the house, Owen says, “So I take it you’re not an MMA fan?”

Ryan shrugs. “Violence,” it’s not even that it disturbs him, it’s deeper than that, “distresses me.”

“Even when it’s two people who agree to meet one another in combat?”

He’s seen too much of it, so much that he sometimes wonders if there’s any spot of ground left on this earth that hasn’t absorbed blood. “Even then.”

“Huh. Good for you, man,” Owen says, and slaps Ryan on the shoulder as he passes by. 

Ryan watches him walk away, aware that there was no sarcasm in his comment and uncertain how to take that. He can’t fit together what he knows about Owen, about his history and his position at Division, with the guy himself. It’s frustrating, because it’d be easier to just say, hey, the guy’s broken, totally damaged, Division destroyed him and if he’s still standing, well, it’s not for long. Because, yeah, risk assessment. He’s supposed to be good at that shit. He’s supposed to be wary of Owen, if not downright afraid, consider him tick tick ticking his way towards an explosion and just get himself out of the way of that eventual blast. Instead he stays amazed at what a survivor the guy is, at the guts it must take to keep going, to not have given up. 

  


“Dude, I cooked.”

“Ok.”

“Yeah, I mean, no one else is around, and I was hungry, so, you know. Dinner?” Owen points at the island, where he’s already put out two glasses and sets of silverware.

“Dinner would be good, thanks,” Ryan says.

“Sit down, I’ll get you,” Owen says.

Ryan watches him preparing their plates and tries to convince himself that he doesn’t care. 

  


From what Owen’s seen so far, Ryan never really relaxes. He’s a still guy, not prone to nervous movement, but he stares into space so often, the corners of his lips tugging down, that it’s obvious he’s always thinking and not about anything good, which is why it amuses the hell out of Owen that all he has to do to get Ryan flustered is hang out with him wearing nothing but his boxer-briefs. 

Today they’re sitting at opposite ends of the couch, drinking beer and watching the first round of March Madness basketball on the tv.

During a commercial, Owen angles himself towards Ryan and spreads his legs a little wider, drapes his hand over his upper thigh, close to his crotch. Ryan follows the movement with his eyes and then quickly looks away, pressing his lips tightly together. Gotcha. “It’s ok, you know,” Owen says, taking another gulp of his drink. “Hell, it’s good.” 

“What are you talking about?” Ryan turns his attention back to the resumed game, like that’ll be enough to ignore the tension between them. 

But Owen can tell, he always can, after what feels like a lifetime of observing people’s physiological cues. It’s almost like being able to see inside someone, see the blood racing through their bodies. Fight or flight, baby, he thinks, but I’m no one you wanna run from. There’s a third option, you know. Fuck. I suggest you choose that one. “It’s ok to want-” Now Ryan’s lips curl into a sneer, and Owen wonders if that’s supposed to be a warning, if he’s supposed to feel like he’s crossed a line. He doesn’t. He thinks he can even smell Ryan start to sweat underneath his button down shirt. “Whatever you want,” he finishes.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Ryan says, rising from the couch. 

Owen follows him without hesitation, stands in front of him, blocking his way. “Given your background, you are a spectacularly bad liar.” 

“What do you want from me?” 

He was probably always impulsive, he sure as hell is now. After so long in Division, where he had to choose between following orders and his own life, because Percy sure as shit would’ve killed a guardian if he wasn’t happy with them, he craves this, the ability to do whatever he wants. “What I want is to suck your dick.” He gets on his knees in front of Ryan who’s just gaping at him, like he can’t believe what’s happening, and he looks almost as freaked out as turned on. “You can pretend it’s someone else, if you want,” Owen says, unbuckling Ryan’s leather belt. “Close your eyes if you do,” he orders. “Just close your eyes.”

Ryan touches shaking fingertips to Owen’s watering mouth.

  


It feels incredible and Ryan can’t remember the last time someone sucked him off like this, so deep. And he just gets lost in it, because it’s good for him, when it goes so sloppy and slow like this, when it feels like it’ll go on for hours, and coming takes him almost completely by surprise, leaves him groaning, his whole body clenching.

“Watch me,” Owen’s saying, as Ryan blinks back into consciousness. “Ok?” He’s on his feet again, and sways close to Ryan, his shorts pushed down below his ass as he jerks himself. Owen pinches his own nipples, hard, then slides a hand down to cup his balls. Ryan rests one hand on Owen’s back, feels his muscles flexing as he moves. He sucks on the index finger of his other hand and slides it in between Owen’s cheeks. He teases around his asshole, then drags his finger further to apply steady pressure at the spot behind his balls. Perineum. Of course he knows the name. Hell, he knows the etymology, but there’s nothing clinical or academic about this. Owen’s sweating, and Ryan leans forward, licks up his neck. Owen whines, there’s no other word for it, and Ryan gets what he rarely lets himself have, enjoy, that feeling of satisfaction, yeah, job well done. 

  


“You’ve got bigger balls than I gave you credit for,” Owen says, afterwards.

Ryan stares at him. “You mean that literally?”

“Take it however you want.” He’s fidgeting with the zipper on his hoodie, drawing it up and down. “Hey,” he says, “you wanna do that again sometime?”

“You know where I sleep,” Ryan says.


End file.
